French Cuisine Can Kill You Page 7

  D’Artagnan’s long ears were flying in the wind. Head out of the window and mouth wide open, the dog was enjoying the fresh air of Normandy, tickled by the gusts flapping his skin. He was counting the cows in the green fields of the countryside.

  52, 53, 54… Damn! It never ends! There are more cows than people here.

  “You inherited the castle? You’re the heiress? That’s unbelievable!” said Liliane.

  “Yes, well, I haven’t signed any papers yet,” said Amanda. “I have to make a decision by the end of this week though, and I really don’t know what to do. It must be costly to maintain such a big property, and I don’t have that kind of money. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’d be able to live there. Toinette d’Orvilly must’ve felt so lonely in this big castle. Did you ever meet her?”

  “Yes, on a few occasions when she was shopping in the village. She was always very agreeable and polite, but she wouldn’t engage much. We barely saw her the year before she passed away though. It seemed that she had decided to live in seclusion.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Not really. She was quite old, in her nineties, I believe, and she had no family left. So, maybe she felt more comfortable staying in the castle in the company of her cats? Who knows. I heard she had quite a few. I also know that she was fed up being bothered by undesirable visitors on her property.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, tourists and nosy people. Some of them were passionate about medieval castles and kept coming onto the property, although it’s clearly marked private, sometimes knocking at her door, asking to tour the castle, which she didn’t want to do. Teenagers tried to break in at night, and some potential buyers offered her millions of Euros for the estate. But she didn’t want to sell. She had lived in the castle all her life, so it was her home. What would she have done with millions of Euros anyway, with no family, knowing well that she was reaching the end of her life? She always refused to sell it. She really loved this castle.”

  Liliane turned to the left and passed through a gate to drive onto a path running through a field. A sign, with a smiling red apple drawn on it, read ‘Morin’s Pommeraie and Cider House.’

  “Do you like apple cider, Amanda? I promise you Morin has the best in the area.”

  The wheels of the Deux Chevaux crunched on the gravel when Liliane parked the car in front of the farm. She stopped the vehicle abruptly, flinging its passengers forward. The car made a clunky noise. Liliane pulled the white, golf-balled sized knob of the hand break towards herself. The long metal rod, built into the dashboard, produced an unpleasant grinding noise as she pulled it.

  Amanda stepped out of the car carefully, unsure yet how to manipulate the strange reverse door. Once out, she opened the door to the back seat. D’Artagnan jumped out of the car, happy to escape and stretch his legs. Amanda felt the same way. All along the bumpy ride in the old car, their behinds had jiggled on the metal structure underneath the thin cushions. Liliane was all smiles, obviously used to this, probably thinking it was part of the charm of driving an old Deudeuche.

  All three walked to the entrance of the farmhouse, where several barrels filled with red apples were displayed. D’Artagnan sniffed a few.

  Can I

  “Nope! You can’t, d’Art,” immediately said Amanda, giving her dog a stern look.

  Damn! That’s torture! Frustrated, the Great Dane mumbled and walked into the building.

  “Welcome to Morin’s Pommeraie and Cider House,” said a young woman with an inviting smile. She was placing bottles of cider on shelves. “Is this your first visit here?”

  “Not for me,” answered Liliane, “but it is for my friend.”

  The young woman left her bottles and walked with enthusiasm toward Amanda.

  “All right then. My name is Florine and it will be a pleasure to tell you our story. The Pommeraie and Cider House was founded in 1918 by Ernest Morin.” The young woman pointed at framed black and white pictures hung on a wall. “Ernest was a young soldier at that time, only 17, when he came home to the family farm after fighting on the front lines during World War I. Unfortunately, upon his return, he mostly found ruins. The main building of the farm had been severely damaged. But the worst part was learning that he had lost his entire family. Nobody had survived the war. The young man showed a lot of courage and, with the help of a few villagers, rebuilt the family farm and took care of the orchard where his parents had once grown apple trees. Ernest worked hard, took care of the existing trees, and planted new ones. Soon, he was able to make a decent living selling apples. When his business flourished, he decided to start producing cider. The quality of his cider made Ernest’s business popular very quickly, and Morin Cider gained its reputation as an excellent cider, and even one of the best in the region. In 1922, Ernest married a young woman from the village, Marie Dupuis, and started his own family. Today, it is one of his great-grand-daughters, Claire, who runs the family business, who happens to be my mother. We’re proud to say that our sweet Morin Cider has won the Golden Medal for Best Cider in Normandy three years in a row. Would you like to taste a sample?”

  “After such a wonderful story, how can I say no?” answered Amanda.

  “And you madam, would you like one too?” asked the young woman, turning to Liliane.

  “Sure. Just a tiny sample though. I’m the one driving.”

  Florine went behind the counter and opened a bottle. She poured cider into two small glasses and handed them to Amanda and Liliane. As the two friends were sipping their drinks, a rotating stand beside them attracted Amanda’s attention. She turned the stand to look through the postcards with pictures of cliffs and pebble beaches that made Normandy so famous, old farmhouses made of white cob and beams, and people in horse-drawn carriages rolling along the paved streets of quaint Orvilly-sur-Mer in the early twentieth century.

  A black and white postcard piqued her curiosity. Amanda recognized the castle, in front of which posed a group of people beside a black luxury car. The men were dressed elegantly in black suits with long jackets, and the women wore evening dresses. A young woman in the center of the group wore a white gown with a long veil, and held a bouquet. Amanda took the postcard and turned it to read the inscription on the back. She read ‘Wedding of Toinette d’Orvilly and Abélard de Marsan, Orvilly-sur-Mer, June 1948.’

  Amanda’s face brightened. “Look, Liliane! This is a picture of Toinette d’Orvilly in 1948. This is the first picture I’ve seen of her.”

  Liliane took the postcard and smiled.

  “She is so young in this picture. Probably in her mid-twenties at that time? Her gown is lovely. I remember that she loved fashion and was always polished and chic, even in her older years. I believe Abélard de Marsan was her first husband who died only two years after the wedding in a car accident. Very sad. She was too young to become a widow.” Liliane looked at Amanda and squinted. “You know what? I think you look a bit like her.”

  “Me?” said Amanda, doubtful. She took back the postcard and scrutinized it. Did she really look like Toinette? Maybe. Maybe they had some features in common, as well as their love of animals. Obviously, she and her ancestor didn’t share the same love for fashion though. But could they share the same love for the castle?

  Chapter 21

  A t last, a blue sky with only a few clouds. Rays of sunshine warmed up Orvilly-sur-Mer, finally giving the village the Norman charm Amanda had seen in pictures.

  "Get ready d'Art, we're going for a walk to someplace special."

  Amanda was waving the dog's leash and d'Artagnan was jumping around the room, making it difficult for her to clip the strap on his collar.

  "Please, d’Art, stop moving so that I can get the leash on your collar, if you want to get out of here."

  The dog calmed down.

  "There you go. It wasn't that hard, was it?"

  Bronx was sleeping on the windowsill, snoring loudly as usual, moving his paws as if he were fighting. Amanda checked on
him to make sure the cat was all right.

  D'Artagnan moved his tail impatiently. Focus on me, not him. We were about to go somewhere, remember?

  "All right, let's go d'Art."

  The dog pulled so hard on his leash that Amanda had to hold on tight to the rail to avoid falling down the stairs.

  "Slow down, d'Art!"

  They arrived downstairs quickly, and in one piece. Mrs. Beaudoin was behind the counter, absorbed in reading a magazine.

  "Good morning, Régine."

  "'Boujou," answered Régine. The woman just waved a hand and barely lifted her head.

  Amanda and d'Artagnan were stopped at the front door, a terrible threat blocking their way. Titi was posted there, growling and baring his teeth. The tiny dog had a mission: nobody would pass that door.

  D'Artagnan looked down on the dog. This is a joke, right? Move away before I eat you, ugly rat.

  Titi barked.

  "Uh, Régine, we have a little problem..." said Amanda.

  "Titi, come here!" yelled Régine, her nose still in her magazine.

  But the little dog ignored the woman's order and didn't move one inch. He was bouncing on his front legs, as if he were getting ready to attack.

  D'Artagnan was getting impatient. Can I eat him now?

  A hand grabbed Titi and lifted the dog into the air. "You, mister, how many times have I told you not to scare our guests? You're just the size of a little shrimp." Régine put the dog back on his pillow. "Now, don't you move, Titi," ordered Régine, pointing an authoritarian finger at the tiny dog.

  "Sorry about that," said Régine, "this dog thinks that he's as big as yours and he has the same anger issues as the Hulk. Don’t you?” said Régine, patting Titi's green rooster comb. The little dog growled.

  "Will you have lunch here?" asked Régine. "We have very few guests at this time of year, and I'd like to know if I should prepare a table for you or not."

  "Oh no, don't worry about me, Régine. I'll probably eat out for lunch, but I'll eat here for supper."

  "All right, see you later then."

  Amanda and d’Artagnan started their stroll on Brigadier Street.

  "We have about a thirty-minute walk, d'Art. Good enough to stretch your legs."

  The dog wagged his tail. Cool! Where are we going?

  Amanda walked on the paved road to let d'Artagnan walk on the narrow sidewalk. Most of the old houses still had typical Normandy style windows divided into squares with wooden shutters. The flowerpots hung on the windowsills added some cheerful spots of color to the white and brown walls. There were very few people in the street. The village was still quiet at the beginning of April, with few visitors. But when May came, tourists from France and from all over the world invaded the little historical place.

  Amanda and d’Artagnan passed by a lovely shop painted with pastel colors of lilac and green. A cup of tea and little cakes were drawn on the sign above the storefront that read The Secrets. Smelling food, the Great Dane stopped at once.

  "What a cute little shop," said Amanda. "We might stop by later to buy something. Come on d'Art."

  But d'Artagnan didn't move. The dog was mesmerized by a gorgeous strawberry cake behind the glass window of the storefront. Why later? We're here now. Sounds perfect to me.

  In the shop, four elderly ladies sat at a table were enjoying tea and pastries, engaging in what seemed to be a lively conversation. One of them turned her head to look at the storefront and pointed an accusing finger at Amanda. Amanda recognized Mrs. Parmentier, the unpleasant lady she had met in the bakery. The other ladies turned their heads too and stared at Amanda, frowning and shaking their heads with disapproval.

  "Oh my!" said Amanda. "It seems that I'm identified as an enemy, now. Come quick before I get in trouble, d'Art."

  Not convinced by this argument, the dog sat down and swept his eyes a few times from Amanda to the cake, and from the cake to Amanda.

  "I have a surprise for you," declared Amanda with a smile, hoping that this trick would work. The word 'surprise' made it for the dog who stood up immediately. A surprise! What is it? Can I eat it?

  Amanda quickly walked d’Art away from the shop. When they arrived at the Domaine d'Orvilly, Amanda stood below the iron arch, looking at the castle with amazement. "Wow. It looks so different now," she whispered.

  The ivy on the facade gave the castle a romantic allure. It covered part of the frontispiece over the main door where the coat of arms of the d'Orvilly's was carved into the stone. The tall windows didn't look terrifying anymore, but rather elegant, and the towers at the extremities of the old building seemed to stand proudly as if glad to welcome visitors.

  Amanda imagined Toinette d’Orvilly standing beside her, looking at the castle. She felt an unexpected sense of pride rising in her. Maybe she belonged here, after all? She smiled. How amazing to think that she was the descendant of a prestigious French family with such a rich history.

  She unleashed d'Artagnan who bounded free like a happy fool on the vast property while she ambled slowly on the path that lead to the front door. Chestnut trees bordered the lane, and apple trees had already started to blossom, revealing their delicate white flowers. Some of these trees had probably witnessed the history of the d'Orvilly's through the centuries.

  Amanda walked up the stairs leading to the entrance door and pulled the heavy key holder from her bag. "Which one was it? Mr. Perrier said this one... No, this one... Damn. Which one is it?"

  All the keys looked alike. Amanda had no choice but to try one key after another. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she heard the click she was hoping for, and the heavy door unlocked. She pushed it and called d'Artagnan. The dog ran toward her, and they entered the hall together.

  D'Artagnan inspected the place right away, running his muzzle all over the tile floor. He circled around the hall a few times, going along the four archways that led to different parts of the castle. Gee, it's a bit coldish in here, isn't it? Is there food somewhere?

  "How come I missed that the other day?"

  Amanda stood in front of a big painting hung on the wall that faced the entrance door. It was placed above a large fireplace.

  The artwork in a gilded frame depicted an elegant young woman, probably in her twenties, who stood beside an Empire armchair. She wore a voluminous white evening gown, the short sleeves fell off her delicate shoulders, and a pearl necklace embellished her décolleté. One of her hands rested on the top of the armchair. Amanda noticed a golden bracelet around her wrist. A funny little dog with long ears sat proudly at the young woman's feet. His white and brown fur looked pristine, probably groomed to perfection that day for the occasion. An inscription was etched on a little golden plate at the bottom of the frame: 'Duchesse Mélie D'Orvilly, 1862.'

  "Well, d'Art, I think that I just met one of my ancestors. Isn't she beautiful?"

  Not paying the least attention to the painting, the Great Dane decided to keep exploring the new place on his own and ran away down a corridor.

  "D'Art, wait! Stay here! We're going to get lost!" Amanda ran after the dog and followed him until they arrived in a vast room. "Stop d'Art! You're going too fast for me!"

  The dog obeyed, finally, and paused to give Amanda some respite. Why am I the one who always must slow down? It's not fun. Run faster or grow longer legs.

  The dark cherry scratched parquet had a lozenge pattern. Four high windows on one side let in rays of sunshine that brightened up the room. The walls were covered with a dark brown fabric embroidered with tree branches made of yellow-golden thread. Amanda’s steps echoed as she walked in the vast room. She lifted her head and saw three majestic chandeliers with beads of crystal hanging from the ceiling.

  "Oh my... this must've been a grandiose ballroom."

  D'Artagnan put his head in one of the two fireplaces, located at each end of the room.

  "Don't do this d'Art! It's dirty."

  The dog sneezed a cloud of black dust and escaped again, passing through a larg
e open doorway, and turned to his left. He stopped when he faced a narrow wooden staircase. Usually, the dog would’ve turned around, but today his curiosity was stronger than his dislike for stairs. The Great Dane climbed them the best he could, his paws sliding on the steps, and his butt swinging as he moved up.

  "Not so fast, d'Art... Oh! Look at this lovely library."

  High shelves running from the floor to the ceiling covered the walls of the little room. They were filled with old books. Amanda picked up a dusty book, but she had barely opened it before d'Artagnan was again on the run.

  Amanda sighed. At least, at this pace, they’d finish their tour quickly. She kept following d’Artagnan.

  After two hours of running from one room to another, Amanda sat on the floor of a bedroom. She was panting.

  "D'Art. I need a break. Please."

  The dog stopped and sat in front of her. Fine. I give you one minute, that's it.

  She passed her finger over the map of the castle that she was holding in her hands.

  "I think we went through most of the rooms. You know what, d’Art? I imagined that living in a castle would be more relaxing than that, but I realize now that I'd need a cart to go from one room to another."

  While catching her breath, Amanda noticed a doll house in a corner, near a twin bed. She got up and walked toward it. As she got closer, she realized that it was a perfect replica of the castle. She kneeled in front of it and tried to open it to see inside, but it was locked on the side. A small key was required to open it. "One thing is for sure, d'Art, I don't have such a small key on my key holder. I would've noticed it." She looked through the windows, amused to discover the little rooms furnished with miniature pieces of furniture. Was it from the 19th century? Amanda pushed her finger through a window, trying to grab the figurine of a lady in a white dress, when she heard something rolling on the floor behind her. D'Artagnan barked. She was startled and stood up to look around her.